Pillars of Salt
by powertrash
Summary: Post-NFA. Angel buries his friends and fails to move on. Features Giles.


They battled. They lost, in a glorious streak of carnage. They lost, after hearing the battle cry of the reformed Watcher's Council, coming to join them in the fight. After defeating an army from hell, after burying the dead with such little reverence, Spike commented that it might as well have been a mass grave. They still lost. Spike had thrown his cigarette onto the body of a light skinned girl, sneered and walked away.

"Are you going to stay?" Angel asked. He wasn't sure of the answer. He wasn't sure if he cared.

"Ain't no pillar of salt, mate," Spike said. Walked away from the graves without a second look. Disappeared, only rumors of a blond-haired vampire let Angel know he was still alive.

Angel buried Wesley separately. Dug the grave in a conservationist forest, beneath a tree older than he was. He couldn't tear himself away from the spot, an unmarked patch of dirt. At some point, he realized that the others never had graves. There was no funeral them, for Doyle, Darla, Cordelia, Fred. The people he loved just died, no bodies left to bury. The piece of shit he once was had a grave, still does, a weathered tombstone somewhere in Ireland. He wondered if this was reward of real heroes. Burnt up bodies, shells for evil, ash. Unmarked graves in the middle of nowhere. A place to be forgotten.

He found Gunn a few weeks later. He knew before he saw him, had been following that scent as soon as he realized. Who it was, what it meant.

Gunn had grinned. "I guess we finally get to go, bro?"

"Yeah."

The process--Angel couldn't bring himself to think of it in any other terms--took over an hour. They knew each other too well and Gunn, already strong for a human, had gained phenomenal strength since he was turned. Somewhere inside of Angel, Angelus growled in approval.

When the final moment came, Gunn fought it. Impaled up against the wall, metal bars jutting out of his stomach and shoulder, he tried to force himself up, tried to pull himself free.

"C'mon, Angel," he had gasped. "You know it's still me."

The factory floor was dirty. Angel pushed the dust together with his hands, mixing the remains of his--mixing the remains of a hero with ashes and dirt.

Later, after tossing the dust into the air over Wesley's grave, he murmured, "He didn't ask for this."

Angel left LA. Got an apartment in Maine, figured it was far enough away. Left his room only for pig's blood. The occasional book. Charcoal and lead. It wasn't giving up the fight. It was letting someone else handle it.

Giles seemed to understand that. He visited once, briefly. Angel wasn't sure how he found the address, but it didn't surprise him. He invited him in and apologized for the lack of beverages. Giles politely asked if he could turn on the lights.

Angel allowed himself a break because Giles demanded he take one. Understanding from the older Watcher absolved the pressure of duty. None of his--the heroes he had fought with understood the weight of age. The older man, face wrinkling and joints getting sore, knew something of loss. He told Angel to recollect himself, take a sabbatical, if you will.

"We handle this without you, for the time being," he had said. "Until you're ready."

"I don't get a break," Angel responded.

Giles polished his glasses, not looking at the vampire. "It is vital that you return, of course."

That was all that needed to be said.

It was more than the understanding that centuries of loss weighs on anyone. That the deaths he was responsible for hung on him almost as heavily as the deaths of his--the heroes he had fought with. It was the lack of pity that this understanding bred. The break was not for Angel; it was to ensure that Angelus did not rise from his reckless despair.

His penance, for the time being, would be the lack of redemption.

-  
fin

Author's Note: I took two liberties with this story. Illyria was not discussed and Cordelia did not have a funeral. It was never mentioned in canon if she did or not, so I am assuming Wolfram and Hart disposed of her body or that something mystical happened to it. This was intended to be A/S slash, but it didn't turn out that way. I might take it down at some point and re-upload it as part of a longer story. Reviews are nice; please don't just say you liked it and it was in character. (:


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